Chapter Forty One: Willow

Bishop leads us through the club level and drops my hand when we reach the door to his tiny personal locker room. He throws open the door leaving Luca, Carson, and me standing in the doorway. We watch in stunned silence as he grabs his gear from the makeshift metal locker and yanks the magnetic name plate from where it had been stuck a month ago and storms back toward us.

We move out of the way for him to pass, but Bishop halts and shifts all his gear to one arm so he can grab my hand again.

I look up at him, my eyes pleading for him to give me something, anything to let me know where he’s at right now and how I can support him—or maybe stop him from decimating our already burning world.

His hardened expression doesn’t falter, but eyes soften at the edges. He squeezes my hand and glances at the door of the clubhouse locker room. “All in, Kitten?”

That single question holds so much meaning for the two of us and yet makes my stomach flip with anxiety as I put together what he’s thinking.

It’s not quite decimation, but it’s a risk. He wants to tell the team about us—take away Vaughn’s power over us and gain the support of those who matter most. Exactly what Luca wants to do on a larger scale, but this holds significantly more weight. This move allows us to get ahead of the inevitable fire inside the house. No matter what happens, Bishop needs his team on his side. It means more to him than the public or the press. Without them, he crumbles—and me right along with him.

But it’s not just about the team or Vaughn. This is Bishop putting his money where his mouth is. It’s the sort of move Bishop a year ago would pull—loud, flashy, and every bit the hero in a romance novel.

My knight in shining armor proving he’s all in with me.

Carson and Luca swivel their heads between us, flies on the wall to this private moment.

“Yes,” I answer without reservation. “All in.”

Bishop squeezes my hand and grins before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Awww,” Carson sing-songs, and Luca just rolls his eyes.

Flinging the door to the locker room open with a bang, Bishop charges inside. Every head in the room turns to watch us. Even Graham pokes his head out of his office door and follows us.

“Team meeting starts now,” Bishop yells.

Luca and Graham stay at the back of the room, but Carson follows as Bishop leads me to the front, his hand never leaving mine. When he reaches the vacant locker beside Ford’s, he throws his gear inside and slaps his name plate to the space above it. It’s a move that makes my throat thicken and my stomach flutter. With that one action, he’s claiming his spot on this team.

Bishop squeezes my hand and leans over to press a kiss to my forehead. He then drops my hand and jumps up onto the bench in front of his locker.

The faint whispers in the room drop, leaving an uneasy silence.

Bishop glances around the room, not a hint of apprehension in his gaze as he silently dares each of his teammates to protest his leadership. When they don’t, he begins.

“This team gave me the shot we all dreamed of as boys. It gave me a place to continue playing the game we all love. I’ve been protective of it. But I shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you by ignoring your place here. I’ve tried over the past couple weeks to rectify that, but I still owe you an apology. I’m sorry.”

A few of the guys nod in agreement, but there isn’t an ounce of malice directed at their unofficial captain. Bishop has put in the work to earn their respect. They might not trust him yet, but they believe he deserves to stand at the helm of their team.

“Most of you didn’t ask to be here. A shitty situation and a draft no one expected brought you to this team.” He glances down at me. “A person I admire tremendously reminded me that regardless of how you arrived here, you wear the orange and black, and that makes you Renegades. That makes you family.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and my chest swells with pride as Bishop publicly lays his insecurities on the line for his team. When I look at him, I can still see the hardened lines that are etched in his soul as a result of the crash, but instead of being sealed tight around his heart, there are now tiny cracks of light allowing the man he was before to shine through. His scars are healing, and I love the man he’s becoming.

“Just like any family, we aren’t perfect,” he continues. Lifting his head, he slowly connects with every man in the room. “When it should have been me welcoming you into my home, you all turned the tables and welcomed me onto your new team. I’m really fucking glad you did.”

“Here, here,” Julian Garcia hollers.

Bishop lifts his hand in the right fielder”s direction and nods his thanks. “Yesterday, our family had its integrity called into question. I can say with my full chest, none of us on the field last season had any knowledge of the accusations being made. But that doesn’t change that the evidence presented against us and our organization’s involvement in cheating is solid.”

I wait for him to continue, to exonerate my father and tell them it was Vaughn all along, but he doesn’t. My gaze tracks to the back of the room to where Luca stands, and he shakes his head, signaling I shouldn’t speak up and say anything.

“Not yet,” he mouths.

I clench fists at my side and nod, reminding myself patience is a virtue and there are still too many unknowns to bring everyone on board completely. That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to pin Vaughn’s balls to the wall and make him wish he was on that plane instead of my father.

“You’ve seen the evidence?” Russel Brooks, our second baseman, speaks up.

Bishop’s mouth falls into a tight line, and he nods. “Not myself, but I’ve been made aware of what it is and it’s viable. We’re likely going to take some heat from the press and the fans.”

There’s a few muttered curses and a sea of shaking heads.

Fucking Vaughn. I wish I could take this burden away from them. None of them deserve to be taking the heat for this, not when they’ve already gone above and beyond to make this team their own.

“Is that why you called us here?” Ford asks.

“Yes. And no. There’s some additional news that’s going to break that I need you to be the first to know, and I hope you’ll support me in it.”

Knots tangle in my stomach as Bishop looks down and offers me his hand.

This is it. All in.

I place mine in his, and he tugs me up onto the wooden bench with him.He looks down to where our fingers are intertwined and lifts our hands for the team to see. “A year ago, a woman tied a string around my heart. She dodged my love, and I let her go so I could become a man worthy of her. Life had other plans and after a loss that broke me, she became my boss. I hated her, but she never gave up on me. I was a fucking idiot.”

Laughter echoes around us, but it’s lost on me. I’m too busy blinking away the tears that rim my eyes as I look up at the man who owns my heart.

“I love this woman. And by some miracle, she’s agreed to be mine. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

I dare to look out at our team and see a vast array of reactions—jaws dropped, rolling eyes, smiles spread wide.

Bowen Marcos, our relief pitcher and one of the few married guys on the team, huffs a loud, “Fucking finally.”

That’s all it takes for the team to erupt in a cacophony of cheers.

“Kiss her already,” Carson hoots.

It’s all the encouragement Bishop needs. He drops my hand and tangles his in my hair. The other wraps around my waist. He dips me like we’re lovers in a movie and crashes his lips to mine. This kiss breathes life back into me. It gives me hope, not only for us, but for this team. We are exactly what Bishop said, a family. And for a girl who doesn’t have any living blood relatives, I’ll take all I can get.

Before I know it, the team crowds around us and Carson yells, “Who are we?”

“Renegades!” the team yells back.

“Who the fuck are we?”

“Renegades!”

I laugh, breaking our kiss.

Bishop presses his forehead to mine and smiles. “Renegades, baby. We protect what’s ours.”